


Imperfect Harmonies

by Harbinger



Category: Breaking Bad
Genre: AU situations, Canonical Character Death, Drabble Collection, Drug Use, Drugs, F/M, Jesse-centric - Freeform, References to Drugs, more to come - Freeform, prompts from tumblr, some based on RPs
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-02-09
Updated: 2014-02-09
Packaged: 2018-01-11 19:22:43
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 3,107
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1176932
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Harbinger/pseuds/Harbinger
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Looks into what was, what is, what could have been - a life lived and many more that might have happened.</p>
<p>Or: my followers like to send me awesome prompts.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> My followers on tumblr like to send my drabble prompts, so I figured I'd put them up on here. Varying lengths and situations, the majority right now focus on Jane and Jesse. 
> 
> Got something you wanna see written? Find me at [gonnabreakbad](http://gonnabreakbad.tumblr.com)
> 
> The prompt for this one was to send a request for a dark story in my character's past. It deals with suicidal thoughts and some canonical master/pet situations.

A throbbing beat in time to the haphazard rhythm of his heart; Jesse moved awkwardly, arms not wanting to extend fully despite not currently being chained. The dog-run above his head groaned lowly with each movement, particularly when he had to overstretch it to reach something; he suspected that the guys put the stuff almost out of reach on purpose. Todd, for all of his sadism, was not quite that cruel; probably Kenny or Jack, the only two of them Jesse knew. His gait, too, held an awkwardness, proof that his legs had become accustomed to the chains that linked them. 

Jesse turned his head to the side and coughed roughly, shuddering with the force of it. It seemed as though Todd had forgotten that the chemicals were not good to be breathed and Jesse found himself coughing more often than not when it came to cooking. 

Lackluster, he watched the blue drip down into the pan, slowly becoming a sea of sky-hued liquid that would harden into the sheet of nearly-100% pure methamphetamine. He’d already broken up two pans of it, bagged and weighed it. The two bags lay on a nearby table, ready for Todd to come and package them later to deliver to Quayle. Once the sheet pan had filled up, he shut the valve off and placed the tray in the fridge so that it would cool quicker. Replacing the pan for a new one, Jesse pulled out a hardened sheet and began to break the glass apart in silence.

His hips were aching, most especially the right one where the brand, even concealed by a bandage, still leaked blood and pus. Cracking the glass helped to release some of his pent up frustration but Jesse knew better than to think anything would ever get better. Since Andrea, his mood had been collapsing and not slowly either; it got harder and harder to make himself climb out of the literal pit to cook every day. He wanted nothing more than sleep, perhaps an eternal sleep. 

The thought had him pausing and he glanced down at the glass, very still suddenly. The means, of course, were right there; he knew that enough methamphetamine would collapse one’s system and that he could OD on it. Not, perhaps, the most glorious of deaths but Jesse was nothing if not a coward. Trembling fingers reached out and picked up a crystal about two inches long and nearly as thick as his little finger, certainly enough to do him in if taken all at once. Glancing around warily, he slipped the shard into his pocket for later.

—

About an hour later, he looked up as Todd slowly approached him. For all that the blond had not been overly malicious, Jesse could not quite contain a shiver of fear and loathing; he abhorred those deadened eyes. The other boy (Jesse had no idea if Todd was older or younger than himself but then, Jesse barely remembered how old he himself was) came over and picked up one of the chains that attached to Jesse’s arms. He cuffed them around Jesse’s wrists while Jesse stood obediently still; he had made escape attempts the first couple of times before finally coming to the realization that it only meant pain. 

Once the dog-run chain had been unhooked, Jesse turned towards the exit of the hangar, expecting Todd to follow. Instead, the blond watched him with his terrible shark eyes and Jesse tensed.

"Um, shouldn’t we…" He trailed off, pointing a hand towards the door, as Todd came towards him slowly. 

"Give it to me, Jesse. All of it." His voice was as soft and gentle as ever and Jesse  _hated_ that. It recalled too much to mind Mr. White’s lecture voice, and he hated the lecture voice.

"What’re you talkin’ ‘bout, man?" He asked, uttering a weak laugh that held no heart to it. 

Todd did not give second chances; when Jesse refused the first time, he stepped closer and planted his fist hard in the man’s ribs. Jesse made a strange noise, half-grunt, half-hiss, and doubled over with the force of the blow. Todd sighed, letting him back off and sink to the ground.

"I saw you take it, Jesse. We have cameras on you in here for that reason. You will not take it, for whatever reasons you want to. Give me the meth, Jesse." His voice cajoled gently, warmly even, one gentle hand outstretched patiently. Jesse stared up at him, trembling slightly. He hadn’t realized the fucks had cameras.

When a moment passed and he gave nothing, Todd put the heel of his boot in Jesse’s ribcage firmly enough that two ribs cracked. Jesse cried out in pain but the taller male pressed down further, refusing to let him escape. He put enough pressure on the cracked ribs to make Jesse gasp further, cuffed hands pressing on Todd’s ankle.

"Jesse, do we have to do this?" Todd asked, smiling. "We know where the boy is, you know. Do you really want to do this?"

Jesse turned ashen at the mention of Brock, falling still under the boot. “Can’t you just kill me already?” He asked softly, voice cracked. “Come on, man, it’s what he fuckin’ paid you for. You shi—” He grunted when Todd leaned more weight on him, swiftly changed his words, “guys,  _guys_  don’t need no more dough! Please, just fuckin’ kill me already!”

Todd watched him, then removed his foot and leaned down to rifle through Jesse’s pockets until he found the three shards he’d stolen on the last hour or so. “I’m not going to let you kill yourself, Jesse. You’re too valuable for that. And it’s not about the money, really,” Todd got a dopey look on his face, one Jesse recognized with a chill because it was the same look he’d got for a long time when thinking about Jane. 

_He’s in love with that Quayle bitch_.

"So, no, come on, now, let’s get back to the pit and I’ll bring you something to eat and we’ll forget about all this! Maybe tomorrow if you’re good I’ll let you have a cigarette. Would you like that, Jesse?"

As if he had a choice. As if he had a say. As if he had control. Jesse forced a smile as he slowly got up, favouring his ribs.

"Yes, I’d like that, Todd."


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anon: How do you think jesse realized jane was dead? do you think he just like, rolled over and absentmindedly snuggled close to her, kissed her shoulder and then opened his eyes and realized she was gonesagfjkasfhgksdhgf

The waking conscious, sluggish and lethargic from eight plus hours of lying still and not being used, could not immediately register that something was wrong, particularly when coming up from a heroin nod. Jesse’s mind struggled to convince his sleepy limbs to move and behind the bruised veils of his eyelids, his eyes flicked back and forth in lingering REM sleep. He did not yet part them to observe the room, instead uttered a rumble of discontent at the light shining down with a vengeance upon his countenance. 

He rolled, towards where he suspected Jane had been but he could not feel her steady warmth against his side. His dulled mind considered that perhaps she had awoken long before he had and perhaps had found it necessary to go along with her father just to make an impression and he was accepting this when an odd stench made his nostrils twitch.

It reeked of acid and of what he thought might have been pizza, some sort of sharp pong that made his olfactory nerves ache, and beneath all of that, a smell he’d come to associate with Jane. Sleepy blue hues opened to find her lying next to him, on her back.

Jesse blinked as the realization that she was, indeed, supine ripped through him like a tidal wave through a village and all dredges of exhaustion vanished under the horrific understanding of her plight. Vomit trickled down either side of her maw, dark against skin paled by death and sightless sienna hued oculars gazed heavenwards - a place neither of the lovers would ever be going.

"No, god no," Jesse exhaled on the words, dragging himself upright swiftly and crawling atop her, desperate but knowing, deep down, that it was too late.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anon: Drabble: Jesse gets a tattoo from Jane?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This drabble is set in the Alaska AU that my Jane and I came up with. It follows that instead of Jane ODing and Jesse finding her the next morning, she lived and was simply removed from the premises and forced into rehab while he slept. Jesse was then lead to believe that she had died. Nothing otherwise was altered, including _that_ scene in Ozymandias.

It had taken weeks, even close to three months, before Jesse had been able to allow Jane to see under the clothing he wore, where a network of scars lined his body. After he had become comfortable enough with her to let her see, it had taken even longer before the boy had been willing to let her touch more than for a few moments. It had taken months of careful, gentle coaxing before he would simply let her slide a hand under his shirt or to stroke his hips lightly. 

It had been her idea, the tattoos. Jesse had been a bit uneasy about the idea of it but had eventually agreed. Their new tats would not quite match but Jesse could see the symbolism behind them. His would be the chemical symbol for methamphetamine and hers would be for heroin - showing they’d survived their drugs of choice, even if it had left them scarred physically and emotionally.

But when it came to actually getting them, Jesse had balked from the idea of going to an actual parlor. So Jane had decided to do it herself, at least his. For hers they’d go into Anchorage and get hers done. 

For Jesse’s, Jane bought a needle and the inks necessary to do it with. They decided to put it on the back of his neck, where there was no scarring (Todd hadn’t wanted to take any chances on seriously injuring Jesse). Jane gently talked him into letting her use blue for the ink, almost the same colour as the meth he had cooked. 

Jesse had always enjoyed getting tattoos. The buzz of the needle, the sting of pain, the intimacy of someone leaning over him and gently manipulating his skin as they needed to - there had been times Jesse had thought it better than sex. This proved to be one of those times, especially knowing it was Jane doing it. 

When she was finished, she gave him a mirror and held up one behind him so he could see it and once Jesse approved, he caught her mouth in a soft kiss and thanked her for it.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anon: Jesse's first thoughts when holding his newborn daughter?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Also set in the Alaska AU, where Jesse and Jane have a daughter named Arianna Jane Margolis-Pinkman.

He’d have never admitted to Jane that when she - soaked in sweat with his blood and skin under her nail from where she’d actually clawed his left hand deep enough to leave three furrows - passed their child over, that on his mind was, oddly enough methamphetamine. He suspected, as he cradled little Arianna in his hands, that she probably would have killed him then and there, no if’s, and’s, or but’s about it. But the thoughts currently in his psyche did not adhere to any malice or cravings nor anything too terrible to comprehend. Instead, he recalled how it had felt, to take it that first time.

How he’d trembled and shook, the nervous butterflies in his belly, then how everything had been hot and cold and how he thought he could fly. How he knew then and there he could run a marathon, or fight off a bear, or jump off a mountain, an invincibility filling him that had left him soaring high in his own psyche. 

It felt like that, holding Arianna. Except it felt  _better_  than that.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anon: jesse's first thoughts seeing jane in his shirt the next morning

His first thought held a simplicity to it beyond any manner of sexuality; Jesse simply thought she looked beautiful. His shirt hugged and flowed in all the right places to let him have an idea but not show everything and it complimented her so well. Her smile made her face light up and Jesse knew in that moment he’d be happy to spend the rest of his life with her. 


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anon: Jesse's thoughts while walking in on a sweet moment between Jane and their newborn?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Also the Alaska AU. This is their little boy who currently lacks a first name but whose middle name is Walt.

He’d have never told Jane and did his best to avoid showing it in body language, but Jesse had deeply worried about how Jane would handle their little boy, especially with his middle name being drawn from someone who had cost them so much. Jesse had been protective over the tiny boy, who had been born with Jesse’s lighter hair only for it to fall out in the first week. Now it was coming back in Jane’s dark black tendrils and though the eyes remained the light blue of newborns, Jesse suspected the child would inherit his bright blues. 

He knew that once the boy got older, they’d have to beat girls off with a stick, something his Aunt Ginny had used to say.

The little boy was smaller than his sister, so tiny in Jesse’s arms, and he rarely ever left the little baby alone for long. But after a long day in the shop, he’d fallen asleep while lying down on the couch for a while. When he came to, slow and feeling like he was coming up from a heroin nod, he could hear Jane singing softly. 

“ _Hush little baby, don’t say a word,_  
Momma’s gonna buy you a mocking bird  
And if that mocking bird don’t sing  
Momma’s gonna buy you a diamond ring.”

A memory from half a lifetime ago, from what it felt like, rose, recalling to mind that night in the lab with the fly. 

_I could hear them on the baby monitor. She was singing a lullaby._

Jesse sat up slowly, watching Jane walk slowly back and forth, murmuring the lyrics of the song and stroking the boy’s back gently. All of his worries over what she might do to the baby, whose middle name had caused their worst fight, all drifted away from him now, seeing her there with their boy. Jesse felt tears well up into his eyes and trickle down his face slowly, heart aching in his chest with the overwhelming feeling of  _love_ _._


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anon: Jesse's thpughts on the drive. With jane to the georgia okeeffe museum

She’s wearing a peridot green shirt that makes her skin glow and her black hair appear to have starlight frosted through it and he watches her from the corner of his eye as the miles pass on by. One slender hand rests on his thigh, thumb slowly stroking his denim-concealed flesh, a soothing caress that only sparks a slow burn through him. Her long legs are stretched out on the dashboard, toes beating a dance to a rhythm no doubt only she can hear, limber legs accentuated so beautifully by her slim-fitting jeans.

She’s the prettiest thing Jesse has ever seen. A queen to his peasant.

She catches him watching her and gives him a slightly bemused smile that he returns and looks away from. Jesse’s not stupid, not really, and he knows this won’t last. Someone like her will lose interest in someone like him swiftly and Jesse will once again find himself alone. But for now, for this short time, he’ll take what he can get. And he’ll be damn happy about it.


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anon: In the script for Abiquiu, while jesse and andrea are laying in bed, the writers ponder whether or not jesse is thinking about jane, that he may be longing for her since it hasnt been long and the position they are in is similar to how hed be with jane. Could you write about jesses thoughts about jane in that scene? Ur writing is awesome and idk why im requesting that you do this since its painful to even think about jesse missing jane :(

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one was hard and it hurt.

Andrea’s not Jane.

They have so many differences that it’s nearly impossible to find a comparison between them, much as Jesse knows it’s not fair to either woman to compare them. Indeed, about the only thing he can discern similarity-wise is black hair and a taste of illicit substances.

Andrea is not the dominant force in bed that Jane had been, content to lie back and let Jesse work them slowly towards completion; her nails do not mar his flesh and she hisses no sharp words to him. She’s thicker in body than Jane was, lacking the slenderness of his dead girlfriend but has a certain beauty to her that attracts Jesse all the same - body type wasn’t ever really an issue with him to begin with. 

She’s softer, darker, gentler, and he likes it but he misses Jane’s hard edges and cracked parts that made her fit so well with him. Andrea is beautiful, oh yes, and she smells faintly of some rosy perfume and the lingering traces of methamphetamine; she doesn’t smell of opium dens and art. 

He likes it. But she’s not Jane.

Jane would not have let him so easily ensnare her into his arms after their fucking, would not have let him press his face to her hair for long, would not let him hold her like a lover, not this early. Andrea sinks into his arms like she’s made for them. 

It’s not a bad feeling, no. He likes it. If anything it soothes over the raw burns of Jane’s death. 

Andrea’s not Jane.

She’s Andrea. 

( _And surely Jane knows he cannot go on without her forever._ )


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anon: Jesse's thoughts/feelings after Jane rejects him in front of her dad (scene where he's smoking and turns off the filter)

He’s not sure if it’s more hurt or anger, what he’s feeling as he shuts and  _locks_  the door behind him, forgetting in that petty moment that she has a key and could get in if she wanted to. At first, he throws himself into one of the chairs, curling his legs up and slipping an arm around them. He glowers moodily at the tv, which is off for now. 

Jesse knows he’s not  _exactly_  A plus boyfriend material but is he really so bad that she has to hide him like that? It shouldn’t matter but it hurts him in a strange way; his parents had always tried to hide him too, focusing all of their attention on the perfect younger Pinkman.

Incensed, he rises and stalks into the bedroom, determined to get back at her for it. Jesse flops onto the bed and curls up, glowering now at the wall and exhaling. It takes him exactly ten minutes before he grabs his pipe and a crystal and lights up, ready to lose himself in the meth and forget, for a little while, about mean girlfriends and stupid parental figures. 

Fuck ‘em all.


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anon: prompt: what happens after jesse's fight with jane in over? where does he drive to after he runs out of the house?

He’s actually shaking with anger, fingers clenched so tight that every tendon and vein in his arms stand at attention. Jesse slams the car into gear and squealed away furiously, eyes wild with a cold rage. His first instinct is a cruel one but it’s the one he follows, driving to the Crystal Palace. He knows better than to park there so he parks a few blocks over and walks the rest of the way, eyes flat now with that same chilled anger.

Jesse knocks on Wendy’s apartment and grins at the woman when she opens the door. She lets him in, money exchanges hands, and then she’s on her back under him like Jane hasn’t  _allowed_  yet. 

His guilt later as he comes out of the post-orgasmic haze drives him back to the duplex with metaphorical tail tucked and he locks the door again, curling up on the chair and simply smoking. He certainly wouldn’t ever tell her about that. She doesn’t need to know.


End file.
